The Legacy Continues
by JediMasterTabster
Summary: AU - What if the world had not come to an end after The Last Battle and Narnia continued to exist? The Pevensey Legacy lives on, through Lucy's granddaughter Angela Wright. There she learns there's more to life than she thought. With new friends she sets out on the adventure of a lifetime.
1. Prologue

Chronicles of Narnia Fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, or anything affiliated with it. I only own Angel Wright, and any other original characters I create for the purpose of this story.

Summary: What if the world had not come to an end after The Last Battle? The Pevensey Legacy lives on, through Lucy's granddaughter Angela Wright. While she is much older than any of the children were even when they were no longer allowed back, there is much Angela must yet learn, and so Aslan whisks her away as he once did her relatives, into a world of fantasy, passion, adventure, love and loyalty.

Prologue

It was a cold, dark night in November, and while snow had not yet begun to fall in Southern Ontario, most people were already wearing snowsuits, mitts, hats and scarves. A cruel wind blew dead leaves in swirls down the road and sidewalk, creating a somewhat eerie atmosphere on the street. Most of the stores had closed up already, save for a small coffee shop called The Mochaberry Café, which was situated directly across the street from the public library.

It was in that café that 17 year old Angela Wright sat pouring over photo albums, journals, and letters written by her grandmother many years ago. She shook her head, sighed in frustration, and took a drink of her caramel latte.

_What a load of hogwash!_ She thought to herself. _I'm to be building a report on my family history, and here I have nothing but loads of fairytales written by my deranged grandmother!_

She had to admit, while it was all certainly hogwash, the stories appealed to her. She wished beyond anything a place like the one her grandmother, Lucy Pevensey, described did truly exist. The tales were enthralling, they were captivating, they were exciting! But, they were also fake. And fake stories would not help her get an A on her final assignment following her family tree.

Angela had gone to visit her grandmother earlier that morning, explaining just what she needed for the project. Without any hesitation, and with a broad smile, grandma Pevensey handed her a box full of everything that was now spread out on the table in front of her.

A quick glance at her watch told Angela that it was not only past the time she was supposed to be home, but that the coffee shop would be closing momentarily.

"Great… I really made it far tonight," she grumbled as she packed up her grandmother's things, and left some change on the table for a tip.

A brisk wind met her face with a sharp, stinging slap as she stepped outside, and she shivered, wishing that she had taken the time to zip up her coat before picking up the box and her coffee. She steadied the coffee on top of the box using her chin, so that the wind would not blow it off, and walked towards her car.

The old, beat up Chevrolet Cavalier looked like a piece of junk, but it worked well for what she needed, and got her from point A to point B. Plus, it was good on a gas, which helped save Angela a fortune.

When she reached the green car, she lifted the box to sit on top, grabbed her coffee, then fished around in her pocket for the car keys. Before long, she was pulling out of the parking spot, onto the main street, and driving home. Although it was only 11:00 on a Saturday night, it wasn't unusual for the town to be dead. It was one of those curses of living in a small town; everything closed early, and everyone who actually wanted to do something had driven to the city for the day, or even weekend.

Unlike most of the kids her age, Angela was not interested in field parties, or house parties, or doing anything illegal. Her life was her studies, and nothing else. It wasn't that she was afraid of doing anything else, or didn't like doing anything else, but rather that she simply enjoyed learning. She loved the opportunity to write an essay having to prove something, or to dive headfirst into a book to learn about the past.

The drive home was short, and after letting her parents know she was home and locking up the house, Angela crawled into her bed and sat, staring at the wall. Although she was upset that she had gotten nowhere on her project, she could feel herself being drawn to her grandmother's stories. With a sigh, she opened the box, and pulled out a journal entitled 'The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe'.

Four hours later, she finished the journal, eyes wide open in surprise. While her grandmother might be a nutcase, she certainly knew how to write. The story had been brilliant – characters one could fall in love with, and a world that anyone would want to be part of. She was about to close the book, when she noticed that there was one more page after the ending. Flipping it over, she discovered an inscription which appeared to have been written quite recently, and, much to her shock, was addressed to her.

_My dearest Angie,_

_I know you are reading this journal and thinking how crazy your dear old grandmum must be, but I urge you to try, with everything in your heart, to believe what you have just learned. Aslan made a promise that one day, our kin would return to Narnia, to face adventures of their own. While I had dearly hoped it would be my own children, it seemed they were able to learn from life what they needed, without the influence of our dear friends. I have a feeling however, that you may find yourself on your way to a land of magic, a land like nothing you have ever imagined. Keep an open heart, and an open mind, and know that within you, you carry the courage and passion of the Kings and Queens of old._

_I will always be with you,_

_Grandma Pevensey_

Angela stared at the inscription, not sure what to make of it for a few moments. Then, shaking her head at the foolishness suggested in the note, she removed her glasses and placed them on her nightstand, then pulled out her ponytail, placed the journal on the bed, turned out the light, and went to sleep, hoping never to think back on that strange story her grandmother had written ever again.


	2. Chapter 1: Finding Narnia

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Narnia, or C.S. Lewis. I don't own the Mochaberry Café, the Chevrolet Cavalier, or even the layout of the small town Angela lives in. I only own characters which were not in the original Narnia series. Please, do not sue me over this because I have nothing that I can give you. Seriously… half the clothes I wear are borrowed from my sister.

Chapter One:

It had been a full two years since Angela had opened her grandmother's journal, and true to her hopes, she had never thought about it again. Life hadn't gone as far for her as she had hoped. Angela found herself attending a University she didn't want to attend, enrolled in a major she couldn't stand. While she had always loved history, she had never dreamed of taking it in University. None of the careers she could see connected with a Master's in History were anything even slightly appealing to her.

Her days were quite boring and bland, and she began to question if she even had a true purpose in life now, beyond simply living from day to day. Most evenings found her in the University library, studying and working on essays and assignments.

Although many girls in her dorm had put forward the effort to be friendly with her, Angela felt no interest in making friends. The truth was, she wasn't all that sure she was ready yet to disconnect herself from her friends at home. She had this idea that if she made friends in University she would be severing the ties she had to the few back home, and the thought terrified her.

So instead of making the most of her time, Angela did everything she could to avoid making human contact. Friday afternoon was always her favourite day of the week; it meant classes ended early for her, and a full two and a half days of being able to avoid people.

After class let out, Angela walked slowly down the hallway, her nose buried in a book about Anne Boleyn. She had mastered the art of reading while walking, and managing to avoid bumping into people. It wasn't the most impressive of arts, granted, but it felt to her like it assisted in keeping her invisible to the masses.

Although it was only the beginning of October, a cold chill was beginning to spread through the air, with a bit of a bite to it. Angela closed her book, pulled her jacket closed, and pushed open the building door, bracing herself for the cold bite that would greet her the moment she stepped outside. The fortunate part of living on campus was that it was only a quick walk across the parking lot to her building. Within minutes she was at the doors, and pushing them open, being greeted by a blast of warm air.

"Card please," the front desk assistant called to her as she entered.

Angela flashed her resident card and then swiped it so that she could get into the building.

She was surprised to find her roommate, a petite Asian named Charise, already back from class.

"Hey Charise," she called into her roommate's room as she entered the common area.

"Oh, hey Angie," Charise smiled. "It's good I caught you, I was wondering if it was cool if I threw a party here tonight."

Angela fought the urge to sigh. _There goes my night of solitude,_ she thought. Flashing Charise her nicest smile, she replied, "Yeah, no problem."

"Sweet, thanks hun," Charise grinned. "You're more than welcome to join if you'd like."

She knew the offer would probably be wasted, as Angie had never participated in any social events, but she always offered anyway, on the off chance that the shy girl just might change her mind.

Angela shook her head. "Nah, that's alright thanks, I've got some plans."

Although she didn't really, she knew she'd find something to do. She'd probably take a walk through the park, followed by another late night of studying at the library.

"Any specific time you want the drunkards out by?" Charise called as Angela entered her own room.

"Nah, if you guys are still here, I can sleep through it."

Her room was a comforting place, set up just the way she liked it. The colours in her room reminded her of fall, or a nice, old library. She flicked on her desk lamp, and booted up her computer. With a sigh she fell backwards onto her bed, sinking into the rich brown duvet that covered it. Stretching out so that her arms and legs spread like she was a star, she breathed deeply.

Her computer dinged to notify her it had booted up, and she closed her eyes. She was starting to feel a little funny, lightheaded sort of, and somewhat like she wasn't actually there. It was a feeling that could only be described as feeling like floating around life. She must have been far more tired than she thought.

She sat up slowly from bed, then stood and walked towards the door. "Hey Charise, I'm gonna take a quick nap before your party, I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, rest well!"

Angela closed the door, crawled onto her bed, and curled up in a ball, closing her eyes.

After nearly half an hour of lying there, Angela found no matter what she did, she could not drift off to sleep. The feeling was not going away, but it appeared it was not sleep that she needed. She sat up and wiggled the mouse for her computer, and the screen flashed back on.

_Naaarrrnnnniiiaaaaaa…._

The voice was clear, and beautiful, but barely audible. Angela thought she had imagined it, but there was something about the sound of the voice that seemed… real.

She shook her head slowly. She must definitely need sleep.

After checking her email, she packed up her bookbag, put back on her jacket, and slung the bag over her shoulder. When she exited her room, Charise was gone, probably picking up alcohol for the party. She closed her door, and left.

Her favourite part about the school library was the walk through a luscious garden to get there. The trees masked the garden from the rest of the school and buildings, making it peaceful and calming. When the sun shone on the gardens it made everything look greener and more alive.

Unfortunately on this Friday evening, the sun had set early, and it was already getting dark out. Still, the dark didn't scare her, and she felt the desire to take a bit of a detour, taking the long way through the park. She began to wander into the section where the trees got bigger and were more frequent.

If she had been paying closer attention, instead of letting her thoughts take over, she would have noticed the slight change in the types of trees, and the slowly changing scent in the air. The air was becoming fresher, clearer, but all that occupied her thoughts was about how miserable she had been feeling at the school, how she wished she could just disappear for a while, figure out what it was that she really wanted in life.

She kept walking, for first a half an hour, then an hour, and then, she stopped. She looked around, confused, realizing that she should have come across the library an hour ago. But there was no sign of any buildings whatsoever. In fact, she couldn't even hear the sounds of the engines of cars on the highway. It was getting incredibly dark, and a feeling of sickness was rising in her gut, a sickness that came from the one patronizing thought that she had somehow managed to get horribly lost.

"Chuddlemud! Stop throwing all the wood on the fire!" a voice shouted from through the bushes.

Angela jumped in surprise. What kind of name was Chuddlemud? She turned her head in the direction of the voice, and could see the faint glimmer of flickering flames through the trees. Didn't they know it was illegal to have fires in the forest? Still, maybe they could at least help her find the way to the library. She pushed through the trees, towards the light.

"Oh stop being so worrisome, there's plenty of wood here!" said another voice.

As she pushed the last branch out of her way, Angela found herself staring at the most unlikely scene she could have ever possibly imagined. There, in front of her, sitting at a fire, was a creature that appeared to be half human, half goat, and a raccoon, who was holding the logs in his hands.

Angela stepped forward cautiously, not believing what was in front of her eyes. She must be having a hallucination, she convinced herself. Or perhaps someone had spiked her drink in class with something that took a few hours to kick in.

The faun looked to be about 19 years old, at least, like a human 19 year old. He had orangeish blonde hair, and freckles up and down his arms.

"I don't care if there's plenty of wood here," he said to the raccoon, "there's no need for us to use it all in one night. We still have at least a week left on our journey!" He spoke with an Irish accent, and crossed his arms to glare at the raccoon.

The raccoon shook his head slowly, and took the log back to a large wooden wagon. "You know Aldrick, you really are a stick in the mud," the raccoon said.

Angela's eyes flew wide open. The raccoon just talked?

Chuddlemud, as Angela now knew the raccoon was, started sniffing the air, and turned slowly towards her direction. She blinked once, then twice, wanting to jump back into the bushes, but she couldn't seem to will her feet to move.

"Aldrick, it appears we have a guest," the raccoon said slowly.

Angela, feeling suddenly incredibly overwhelmed at the insanity before her did the only thing her body would allow her to do – she fainted.


	3. Chapter 2: Daughter of Eve

Author's Note: Wow! Thanks for the reviews so far guys, and thanks to everyone who has favourited/alerted this story. It's always nice for a writer to see that people are at the very least, interested to see where a work is going. Hope I can continue to peak your interest in this tale! Just to confirm – a few people have asked how this works without Narnia – I may not have been clear enough in the original description, but this is an AU story where Narnia and the World did not end at after the Last Battle.

Also, sorry for the massive delay in updating. It seems life caught up with me, and it took me a long while to find time to write again.

Just a quick note about this one… I cannot for the life of me remember what the people of Archenland were called, and can't seem to find it on any of the Wiki's, so for now, I'm just calling them Archens. Feel free to let me know if you know what the real term is

Chapter Two:

When Angela came to she half expected to find herself lying in her bed, and that the strange creatures she had witnessed had merely been a weird dream. But it wasn't her room that greeted her. She was lying on the hard ground, and when she opened her eyes she found herself staring up at shadowy pine trees with flickering firelight dancing through them.

"Aldrick, she's awake," the voice of Chuddlemud called softly.

Angela clenched her eyes closed, afraid to sit up and acknowledge that the creatures were real.

"It's okay," the raccoon said in a calming voice. "You're safe here."

As Aldrick approached, he found himself puzzled by her outfit. "What odd clothes," he murmured. "I don't think she's Narnian."

At the mention of Narnia, Angela bolted upright, only to fall back over again by the wave of dizziness that the sudden action called.

"Easy there," Chuddlemud cooed, nodding at Aldrick to help her up. It was one of those times when he wished that his raccoon arms were a little longer and more flexible.

Aldrick stuck his arm under Angela's back and placed a hand on her arm, slowly lifting her up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, green eyes full of concern.

Angela blinked a couple times, somewhat surprised that his skin felt like, well, skin.

"I think so," she replied, half-dazed. "I'm sorry, but did you just say the word Narnia?" Her skin paled a few more shades, leaving her a ghostly white.

Aldrick and Chuddlemud exchanged perturbed glances. The girl seemed more than a little upset by the word. The two could only think of one explanation, that she must be from Archenland. Though the countries had always been allies, peace slowly faded after the Last Battle. It was rumoured that after the battle, and the end of the line of Kings and Queens of Narnia, the King of Archenland had set his sights on the throne of Narnia. Over the years, the inability to get the throne had led to the King turning his back on Aslan and becoming an advocate for human superiority. Though no war had come in a thousand years, they all knew it was only a matter of time.

Aldrick took a deep breath. Her discomfort at their sight worried him, and the thought of why a girl of Archenland would be traveling through Narnia. "Yes," he replied cautiously. "You are in the Western Woods of Narnia… quite far from Archenland, are you not?"

Chuddlemud glared at Aldrick. The young faun had never had a sense of tact.

She shook her head. This had to be a dream. "I don't understand… where is Archenland?" She shivered, her body finally starting to notice the drastic change in temperature. Glancing at the fire, then back at the two creatures that couldn't really exist, she asked "Is it okay if I move closer to the fire?"

"Of course my dear!" Chuddlemud nodded his head vigourously, doing what he could to help the girl to her feet. "And Archenland, isn't that where you're from?"

They helped her to the fire, and she sat down, staring at the flames for a moment, enthralled as they danced back and forth. The heat washed over her body and she hugged herself closely. "It feels so real."

Although he couldn't tell from the racoon's face, Aldrick knew Chuddlemud was frowning.

"It is real," Chuddlemud replied, bewildered. "Don't you have real fire in Archenland."

"I'm not from Archenland… wherever that is," she replied, a little bit shorter than she had intended.

"Where are you from then?" Aldrick was rather confused. Nothing made sense about the human female in front of them. Judging by her height and developed features, Aldrick thought she must be at least 18. The pants she wore were strange; a faded blue colour – but not made of any recognizeable material, with shin high brown boots that appeared to be some sort of soft, fuzzy leather. Her sweater was clearly made out of wool, but looked nothing of the style that they were familiar with from either poor or wealthy humans.

"Does it really matter? This is all just a dream anyways."

Angela was confused. More than confused, she felt sick to her stomach. The flames danced in front of her face, and she kept her eyes transfixed on them, quietly hoping that the strange half-human and the raccoon would fade out of existence if she stared hard enough.

This had to be a dream. A dream stirred by the memory of her grandmother's fairytales. The whispered word of Narnia that passed through her mind in her dorm room had to have been her subconscious merely pulling the tale back to her conscience line of thinking. A sign of being far too overtired, she decided.

Chuddlemud snorted. "If this is a dream, then I'm a Minotaur's uncle." He glanced at Aldrick, who seemed pensive. "Aldrick?"

"This is going to sound strange," he began, looking at Chuddlemud with an odd expression. "But what if she's not from here at all? What if she's…" he paused for a moment, as if he was unsure of what he was about to say. "What if she's a Daughter of Eve?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

His suggestion was met by a blank, blinking stare from Chuddlemud. "That's impossible. There hasn't been a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve in Narnia for over a thousand years. Not since the Last Battle."

Angela cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but my mother's name was not Eve, and my father is certainly not Adam."

Chuddlemud ignored the girl's protests. "She couldn't be," he told Aldrick matter-of-factly. "Her accent is all wrong. I don't even recognize that accent."

"Accents here change all the time, depending on where they are from," Aldrick pointed out. "What if the family of the High Kings and Queens of Narnia moved to another country? Or perhaps she is related to one of the many friends of the Kings and Queens who came through here?"

"You would think she would know the legacy of the family then," Chuddlemud retorted.

"The High Kings and Queens did not know of their own legacy-to-be when they first visited Narnia."

Angela, who by this point felt dizzy from what was going on cleared her throat. When that didn't work to stop the argument, she loudly said "EXCUSE ME!"

Aldrick and Chuddlemud halted, looking back at the girl slightly embarrassed.

"This is all very fascinating and the likes, but really, this is all just a dream. My grandmother's mad fairy-tales manifesting themselves in my overtired mind! I probably never even left my bedroom and just dreamt my walk to the library."

"Your grandmother?" Chuddlemud asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Why?"

"My dear, what is your name?"

"Angela." She was getting more and more confused. What would her name matter if this was all a dream?

"And what is the name of your grandmother?"

This was getting ridiculous. "I'm not sure why it matters, but Lucy, Lucy Pevensie."

Aldrick let out a whoop and jumped to his hooves so quickly that Angela jumped, startled.

"She IS a Daughter of Eve!" He laughed the kind of laugh one omits when they are overcome with joy and relief. "Oh Chuddlemud, I TOLD you!"

The raccoon still wasn't fully convinced. "Wouldn't Queen Lucy have shared the legacy with her bloodline though? For all we know, this could be a trick; a way for the Archens to slip a spy into our midst."

"I'm not a spy!" Angela protested. "This is just some silly little dream, and I'd be thankful to wake up now!"

Shaking his head, Aldrick crouched beside Angela and placed a hand on her arm. "Angela, I'm very sorry, but this is no dream. This is real. You are in a land called Narnia – a land your grandmother ruled many moons ago. And believe it or not, you are here for a reason. Daughters of Eve and Sons of Adam are only called here when they are needed."

He turned and shot Chuddlemud a glare. "And if you're still unsure, then perhaps we should take her to the Narnian council."

The two began to bicker about what they should do, and Angela simply sat there, staring. The whole notion was ridiculous, and yet, here she was. Pinching herself wasn't working, nor was her usual tactic of willing herself to wake up.

She closed her eyes tightly and began to rub her temples. This was so overwhelming that she was developing a headache. Was there a chance that everything her grandmother had told her was real? The idea seemed so ludicrous, yet here she was, in a dream that felt nothing like a dream, sitting with a strange creature and a talking raccoon.


End file.
